


We Went to a Whole Other Universe and Still Couldn't Escape Capitalism

by bexpls



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Divergent Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, anti-capitalist, originally appeared in the zine 'A Light in the Dark', set in between Caerdroia and The Next Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexpls/pseuds/bexpls
Summary: The Doctor, Charley and C'rizz have recovered the TARDIS and are now travelling freely through the Divergent Universe, when the TARDIS picks up an impossible reading. A source of time energy in a universe without time. When they investigate, they discover a planet with a tiny source of time running through its centre. The time has been commodified, the planet turned into a pleasure resort for the wealthy, where the employees are overworked and underpaid. The perfect place for the Doctor to discover that capitalism exists in the Divergent universe too.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	We Went to a Whole Other Universe and Still Couldn't Escape Capitalism

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2020 in the Eighth Doctor charity fanzine 'A Light in the Dark' under the author name Bex Chadwick (who is me).

“You should talk to him.”

Charley groaned and snapped her book shut. “I told you, there’s no point.”

“Why not?” said C’rizz. He was standing in the doorway to Charley’s room, picking at his fingers and looking vaguely uncomfortable, as usual. Like he hadn’t quite accepted that he was an Official TARDIS Member yet. “He’ll listen to you.”

“No, he won’t,” said Charley. She put her book down and sat up so she was cross-legged on her bed. “Look, you know about this as well as I do by now. His… moods. And you know there’s nothing we can do except wait and let him get better on his own.”

‘Moods’ was a bit of an unfair term. A better one would be, ‘anxiety attacks’. He’d been having them regularly since he arrived in the Divergent universe, and they hadn’t stopped, not even when they’d found the TARDIS. He didn’t like the feeling of being doomed to live linearly, swept along by time (or, erm, lack thereof) like a stone in a stream. Sometimes, he was distracted from that feeling by whatever adventure they had gotten caught themselves up in this time. Other times, it overwhelmed him, and he had to take a bit of time out to recuperate.

He was in the middle of one of these attacks now. Four days it had been going on for, and it wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. He refused to leave the TARDIS. After a couple of days, it became obvious he wouldn’t even talk to Charley or C’rizz, since he just wandered from room to room avoiding them. Eventually, Charley said they should just leave him to it. He’d break out of it when he was ready, she said. C’rizz agreed, and for the past two days they had left him alone, checking on him every so often. For the most part, he just read - though when Charley thought about it, she couldn’t be sure she’d actually seen him turn any pages. But at least he wasn’t falling into crazed fits of hysteria. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew what she would do if that happened.

“What if he doesn’t get better on his own?” said C’rizz. “What if he just stays like this, forever?”

Charley shivered. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry. But we have to do something. Are you sure there’s nothing you can say that will make him listen to you?”

“I don’t know,” said Charley, sighing. “Time was, I always knew what to say to him. But you know how it is. Things change. Sometimes, I feel as though I hardly know him at all anymore.”

C’rizz looked worried. “You’re not going to go into a depression too, are you?”

Charley gave as much of a laugh as she could muster. “No, I don’t think so.” She grimaced. “You’re probably right about the Doctor. But I just don’t know what I could say to him that would help.”

“We could take him somewhere,” suggested C’rizz.

“What, like a holiday?” She wasn’t going to say anything - this was his universe, after all - but from what she’d seen of it so far, she didn’t think there were many places that were especially relaxing.

“There was that garden,” said C’rizz, “the one we went to before the Multihaven. That seemed quite peaceful. I mean, when I wasn’t having trauma-induced flashbacks.”

Charley thought it was unlikely that they’d be able to locate that particular place again, and told him so.

“Then, fly around until we find somewhere that looks nice?”

“The TARDIS doesn’t really work like that,” Charley started to explain, before she was interrupted by a high-pitched alarm coming from the direction of the console room.

“Is it supposed to be doing that?” said C’rizz nervously.

Charley leapt off the bed - rather acrobatically, since she was on the top bunk, and rushed past C’rizz. No, it definitely _wasn’t_ supposed to be doing that.

The Doctor was already in the console room when they got there, curled up in the armchair. There was a cup of tea on the table next to him, that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a couple of hours. He was flicking idly through a book, not taking the slightest bit of notice of the alarm, or the red light that was flashing.

Charley ran over to the console and checked the reading on the scanner. It didn’t tell her anything useful, just showed scrolling lists of numbers and symbols. Though clearly, judging by the alarm and the red light, something was wrong.

“Doctor?”

“What is it?” said the Doctor irritably.

Charley gestured vaguely at the air. “The noise? I think the TARDIS is trying to tell us something.”

“Well, find out what it is so I can ignore it,” said the Doctor.

Charley huffed. Obviously he wasn’t going to be much help. She smacked the console. “If there was ever a time for you to start being nice,” she told the TARDIS, “it’s right about now.”

Amazingly, the TARDIS responded. Well, either that, or it was a coincidence that the little clock set into the console, whose hands had been stationary since arriving in this universe, was suddenly working again. Its hands were spinning rapidly around, passing by the hours in a matter of seconds.

“It’s the clock,” called Charley.

“What’s a clock?” said C’rizz. Charley waved him off.

“What about the clock?” said the Doctor. “It doesn’t work. It can’t work if there’s no time.”

“Well, I think there might be some time now,” said Charley, “because this thing is going crazy.”

The Doctor groaned and put down his book dramatically, as if Charley had disturbed him just when he was getting to the good bit. He came over to the console and glanced at the scanner. Instantly, he stopped looking so annoyed and began to look confused.

“It’s a fault,” he said after a moment.

“Are you sure?”

“It must be,” said the Doctor. “The TARDIS is telling me that she’s detected a source of Chronon energy. But that’s impossible.” He reached up and switched the scanner off. Both the noise and the flashing light cut out immediately. The Doctor slumped back over to the armchair.

Charley was going to start getting annoyed with him in a minute, depression or no. “Doctor, we can’t just ignore it!”

“Why not?”

The worst thing was, she knew that he wasn’t even being deliberately obtuse. He just couldn’t find it within him to care.

Which was completely heartbreaking.

“The - er - clock is still spinning,” said C’rizz.

The Doctor swiped his arm across the table, sending the cup of tea flying across the room, where it smashed against the bookcase. C’rizz flinched.

“I don’t _care_ about the clock, C’rizz,” said the Doctor. “But if you want to investigate, then I’m all for it. I love adventures, remember?” He came back to the console, glaring at them both, and started punching in coordinates. “But there’s no time there. There’s no time _anywhere_ , in case you’d forgotten. It’s impossible, both physically and metaphysically. So I don’t know what you’re expecting to find.” He finished typing and sank onto the console, head in his hands, like all his energy was spent.

Charley wasn’t sure what to do, so she put her arm around him and leant her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she said, knowing what a completely useless statement that was.

“No it won’t,” murmured the Doctor. “It can’t possibly be okay. But since there’s no alternative, I’ll have to make do with ‘not okay’.”

* * *

The TARDIS seemed only too eager to land, drawn to the time energy like a moth to a flame. There was none of the usual fuss it made when the Doctor tried to pilot it in this universe. Clearly, there was something here that it really wanted the Doctor to see.

The Doctor turned the scanner back on and examined the readout. “We’re in a spaceport,” he said. “So at least we won’t draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“Except for the fact that we’re in a blue box,” said Charley.

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” said the Doctor, which was an interesting statement coming from him, thought Charley. At least he’d calmed down.

“Where exactly are we?” said C’rizz.

The Doctor consulted the scanner again. “The First Galaxy. Quite a way away from Eutermes and Bortresoye, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear. The planet Paradise. Interesting name.” He tapped a few buttons. “We’re quite close to the north pole. Ooh, I like that.”

“What?”

The scanner was showing a satellite image of the planet as it slowly rotated. It was mostly water, by the look of it, but with two large landmasses on opposite sides of the planet.

The Doctor pointed at the space just above one of the landmasses. “Look closely,” he said.

Charley squinted at the scanner. It was barely visible, but she could just about see that the space above the planet was shimmering, small waves eddying in crescent shapes in a loose vertical line. Charley’s eyes followed it all the way up to the top of the screen without it stopping. It was the same below the planet, too. A small rip in space that bisected the scanner.

“That’s the time?” said C’rizz.

“That’s what the TARDIS thinks is the time,” corrected the Doctor. “We’ve landed near to where it meets the planet’s surface. I would have just landed us there, but there’s a lot of security around it. Not everyone is allowed access to Paradise, apparently.”

“Because of the time?”

“I’m not sure,” said the Doctor. “Do you want to find out?”

“Of course we do,” said Charley. She decided not to add, “I’m just glad that you do.”

* * *

Upon leaving the TARDIS, they were caught up in a steady flow of people making their way from the spaceport towards what Charley guessed was a check-in area. All of the people surrounding them were dressed to the nines. Coats that looked like they would be designer in her own universe, brightly coloured jewels that hung from necks, ears, and various other appendages. A few of them tutted or even flinched away whenever Charley, C’rizz, or the Doctor brushed against them.

“Clearly we’re not posh enough,” muttered Charley.

“Visiting Paradise does seem to be a black-tie event, doesn’t it?” agreed the Doctor. “Makes you wonder exactly what it is they’re visiting.” He beamed and started to move a bit faster through the crowd, leaving Charley and C’rizz to follow him as best as they could.

“He seems better already,” said Charley.

“See, I told you,” said C’rizz. “He just needed something to take him out of himself.”

Eventually, the tide narrowed into more of a queue, and they were funnelled through a low-ceilinged corridor. Then, they emerged into a large atrium, made entirely of silver metal sheets. The ceiling was covered in an array of sparkling lights, but instead of illuminating the metal and making it shine, made it look kind of washed out. Charley assumed that wasn’t the effect they were going for. Lined up against the opposite wall was a row of reception desks, which their fellow travellers were lining up at. On the left wall, tucked away in the corner, was a large archway, somewhat incongruous in that it appeared to be made of red bricks.

The really disconcerting part, realised Charley, was that there were no windows anyway. To all intents and purposes, they were just in a large metal box.

The Doctor, predictably, had disappeared. “Where did he go?” said Charley, standing on her tiptoes to try and see over the crowd.

C’rizz, who was at least a foot taller than she was, pointed ahead of them. “Over there, by the desk.”

They pushed their way through the crowd and found the Doctor waiting in line, behind two tall aliens that looked a bit like dark orange meerkats. As they approached him, the Doctor was called to the next available reception, and they followed him.

“Hello!” said the young alien behind the desk. She had pale red irises and lilac skin, a colour that clashed with the vibrant green suit she was wearing. It reminded Charley of the bellhop uniforms they wore in hotels on Earth. “I’m Operator Sky. Welcome to Paradise. May I see your identification and proof of purchase?”

Charley started to ask what they were proving they had purchased, but the Doctor shushed her. He held up his psychic paper. “Identification.” He passed it around his back and held it up again. “Proof of purchase.”

“Lovely,” said Operator Sky. “Will all three of you be experiencing Euphoria today?”

“That depends on what ‘experiencing Euphoria’ means,” said Charley, this time before the Doctor could stop her.

“You have purchased the Emerald package,” explained Operator Sky, “which entitles you to a personal guided tour of the facility, a five minute period in the Euphoria centre, and access to our gift shop. You are scheduled to visit the Euphoria centre at sixteen hours, relative to Tourism. A dedicated Operator will look after you until then.”

“In which case,” said the Doctor, “yes, it will be for all three of us.”

“What does she mean, Euphoria?” said Charley.

“And what does ‘relative to Tourism’ mean?” added C’rizz.

“Maybe that’s their name for the time,” said the Doctor. “As for Tourism, maybe it’s the name of this country, or continent?”

“An odd name for a continent,” said Charley.

Operator Sky came back, followed by another alien, apparently of the same species, who seemed equally as ecstatic to be assisting them.

“Hello,” said the new alien. “I’m Operator Tree, your dedicated Operator. Please follow me, and I will give you your personal guided tour.”

“Ooh, thank you very much,” said the Doctor. “Come on then, Charley, C’rizz. I’m quite interested to find out more about the Euphoria.”

“So are we,” said Charley, hoping she sounded like she meant it.

* * *

Operator Tree led them through the red archway and along a series of increasingly twisting corridors. They were a stark contrast to the atrium; instead of the walls being made of cold metal, they were made of stones of various shades of red and orange. At intermittent points, little alcoves were sank into the walls, displaying intricate carvings, pottery, and other artworks. And it was immaculate; the stones positively gleamed, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere. Warm and welcoming, certainly, but it didn’t escape Charley’s notice that there were still no windows.

“It’s all very fancy,” said the Doctor, pausing for a moment to examine a glass vase positioned in one of the alcoves.

“No expense was spared,” said Operator Tree. “The Corporation are very generous with their funds.”

“The Corporation?” said Charley.

“Our government,” said Operator Tree. “The owners of Paradise.”

“This planet has owners?” said the Doctor.

Operator Tree frowned a little. “Forgive me,” they said. “You must have travelled a long way to come here if you know so little of our planet.”

“We’re from the Third Galaxy,” said C’rizz quickly.

“I see,” said Operator Tree. “In that case, I welcome you to our humble corner of space! I will be happy to answer any questions you have about Paradise.”

“Thank you,” said the Doctor. “Could you tell us a little bit about the history of Paradise? And of the, er, Corporation?”

“Certainly,” said Operator Tree. “Two generations ago, the source of Euphoria was discovered by a Paradisian called Leftembre. Knowing the importance of what she had discovered, she and her associates created the Corporation. Paradise used to be a planet of very little significance, you know; we participated in almost no trade, and we had little economy to speak of. But the Corporation saved us. They renamed the two continents Tourism and Retail, and created the Euphoria centre. Within months, Paradise was one of the most sought-after holiday destinations in the galaxy.”

“And all that in, what, fifty years?” said the Doctor.

“Approximately, yes.”

“You accomplished all of this in that short a time?”

“Short a what?”

“So soon after the Corporation was founded,” said the Doctor hastily.

“Ah, yes,” said Operator Tree. “Like I said, the Corporation are very generous with their funding. And we all work very hard to make the experience as pleasant as possible for the guests.” They paused, just for a second, and rubbed the back of their neck.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the Doctor. “I think.”

The corridor was expanding as they walked, eventually blossoming out into a circular room, several yards in diameter. Again, it had an entirely different aesthetic to both the corridor and the atrium. It wasn’t cold and futuristic, nor was it cosy and inviting. It was coloured almost entirely in a rich plum; carpet, wallpaper, furniture, everything. The kind of room you might see in a poorly designed manor house - all diamond chandeliers and velvet carpet. It wasn’t ugly, exactly, just kind of tacky. And there were still no windows.

The room was filled with people clustered together in groups, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. As Charley watched, an Operator came out of a small door to the side, approached one of the groups, and spoke to them quietly. A moment later, the whole group followed the Operator towards a larger, ornately framed door on the far side of the circle.

Operator Tree directed them towards a row of chairs and invited them to sit down, though remained standing themselves. “You are scheduled to experience Euphoria in half an hour.”

“Terrific,” said the Doctor. “Would you mind telling us a little about the Euphoria? What it’s going to be like, I mean?”

Operator Tree smiled. “It is bliss. All of your worries melt away. It feels like a wave, washing over you, cleansing you of all fears and anxieties.”

“So, it’s a drug,” said Charley.

“Ah, no,” said Operator Tree. “The Corporation would like to stress that the Euphoria does not have any drug-like effects on your body, including but not limited to: disorientation, nausea, addiction, hallucinations -“

“Good to know,” said the Doctor, raising his eyebrows.

Operator Tree’s smiled, but then they looked over the Doctor’s shoulder and their smile faded. Charley followed their gaze. There was an Operator tucked away in the corner, leaning forwards with his hands on his knees. No one else was paying any attention to him.

“Excuse me for a moment,” said Operator Tree, and went towards the other Operator.

The Doctor started to say something, but Charley told him to be quiet and pointed towards the Operators. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

The Operator in the corner looked like he was about to collapse. He was clawing at the sleeves of his blazer, obviously trying to take it off. Operator Tree was holding onto his arms, saying something to him in a low voice. The other Operator was talking back agitatedly.

“But I _can’t_ ,” said the Operator, loudly enough for Charley to be able to hear him. A few of the other people in the room turned to look at him, but looked away immediately. As Charley watched, the Operator started to cry.

The Doctor nudged Charley on the arm. “Do you think it’s time we interfered?”

“It’s what we do best,” said Charley with a smile.

The Doctor grinned and bounded over to the Operators. “Is there anything we can do to help?” he said.

“No, thank you, sir,” said Operator Tree. “Operator Star is just feeling a little tired. Nothing to be concerned about.”

Operator Star promptly fainted.

The Doctor just about managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Charley and C’rizz moved forwards to try to help, but he was conscious again within seconds. Operator Tree pulled him off the Doctor and stood him back upright.

“Please excuse us,” said Operator Tree, looking like they wanted to cry themself. “I’ll return in just a moment.”

“We can help if you want -“

“Please, sir, don’t,” said Operator Tree. They sounded so scared that the Doctor drew back and left them to it. They started to drag Operator Star towards the staff door on the other side of the room.

Charley watched them anxiously. “Should we go after them?”

“I don’t think there’s much point,” said the Doctor. “Clearly they’re not going to accept any help of us. I don’t think they’re allowed to.”

“So? When’s that ever stopped you?”

The Doctor didn’t appear to be listening. “We can’t help them directly… so I think we need to go to the root of the problem. I think we need to go and speak to the boss.”

* * *

According to the information the Doctor was able to get hold of, the continent on the other side of the planet was called Retail. It was the complete opposite of Tourism in more ways than one. There was no tourist-friendly spaceport, no helpful, overworked staff ready to cater to the guests’ every need. Retail was just a giant factory. Whilst on Tourism, people flocked to experience the Euphoria for themselves, on Retail, the pure time was bottled and sold off to those who were so rich, they didn’t even bother to make the journey to Paradise at all. The Euphoria was hand-delivered straight to them.

The Doctor had to be careful about where he landed, so he said. The entirety of Retail was covered by a massive grey warehouse, within which the source of time was contained. Access was strictly for staff members only. Visitors weren’t allowed on this side of Paradise.

“These are the staff records,” said the Doctor, pulling up a list of names on the scanner. “A variety of different species, so we should be able to blend in as workers as long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”

“What if someone asks to see our identification?” said C’rizz.

“Then we either use this,” said the Doctor, flashing his psychic paper, “or we just make something up.” He pressed a few buttons, and a map of the warehouse filled the screen. “This is where we’ll land,” he said, pointing at a storage room on the far side of the facility. “And this is where the central office is. Should take us ten minutes to walk over there.”

“So what’s the plan once we get there?” said Charley. “Shout at them until they agree to treat their workers like actual people?”

“Essentially, yes,” said the Doctor. “Lay out our terms, demand that they agree to them, and say that if they don’t, we’ll shut down their whole planet.”

“So, blackmail them,” said C’rizz.

“These people hardly ever listen to reason,” said the Doctor. “They won’t rise to our level, so we have to stoop to theirs. Besides, we’re not actually going to shut down the planet. It’s the basis of their whole economy, and if they want to help wealthy people get off their heads on drugs, then I say let them continue.”

“But not with the way they’re treating their workers,” said Charley.

“Exactly,” said the Doctor, nodding. “All we have to do is make them _believe_ that we can destroy the Corporation.”

“And how are you going to do that?” said C’rizz.

“Oh, he’s the Doctor,” said Charley. “He’ll have something up his sleeve.”

The Doctor grinned.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn’t run into anyone on the journey to the main office. A few workers passed them, but they all kept their heads down and didn’t seem to notice the odd three out.

“That was lucky,” said C’rizz as they reached the office door.

“Certainly speeds things up a bit,” said the Doctor. He knocked on the door, three sharp raps. No one answered, but he went in anyway.

The room was vast, much larger than any office had the right to be. It was decorated plainly; beige walls, beige carpet, a single lamp that was trying its hardest to be ornate hanging from the beige ceiling. In the centre of the room was a dark wooden desk, which was covered in stacks of paperwork. There was a potted plant in the corner, its brown tips drooping.

Behind the desk was an alien with green skin and completely black eyes set into a catlike face, whiskers and all. He was rifling through the paperwork, but paused to look up when they entered.

“I - who let you in here?” he said, setting aside the file he was holding. “Who are you?”

“We’re from the union,” said the Doctor.

“Oh, that’s terrific,” said the man, folding his arms. “Another inspection? Already?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr…?”

“Lewyel Von,” said the man. “I would’ve thought you’d know that already.”

“Oh, we never bother with names,” said Charley.

Von squinted at them. “Where are you from? Nowhere around here, that’s for sure. What species are you?” He pointed at C’rizz. “Hey, aren’t you one of them -“

“No, of course not,” said the Doctor. “The very idea! Now, Mr Von, we have a few concerns about your workers.”

Von eyed C’rizz suspiciously, but leant back in his seat and said, “I’m all ears.”

“You’re working them to death,” said the Doctor. “Quite literally.”

“Don’t be daft,” said Von, laughing. “They’re fine.”

“If ‘fine’ means collapsing in the middle of their shift because you don’t let them take breaks,” said Charley.

“Or taking on extra hours because you don’t pay them enough for food or rent,” said C’rizz.

Von uncrossed his arms and sat up a bit straighter. “Who’ve you been talking to?”

“No one,” said the Doctor. “We’re just very observant. They didn’t hire us as undercover inspectors for nothing, you know.”

“Well, it simply isn’t true,” said Von. “None of it. And since you can’t prove that it is, I suggest you leave my office immediately.”

Charley was watching the Doctor carefully. His face didn’t betray any emotions; no hint of uncertainty, or of defeat. Actually, he looked like he was struggling not to smile.

“You can’t ask us to leave, we’re with the union!” said the Doctor. “Being with the union means we have every right to stay exactly where we are. Isn’t that right, C’rizz?”

“Er, sure,” said C’rizz.

“Try and sound a bit more authoritative than that,” muttered the Doctor.

Lewyel Von looked at a loss. He floundered his hands around for a minute.

“If it’s all the same,” said the Doctor, “we’ll just lay out our demands and leave you alone to start implementing them. Honestly, I have no idea who you are, or what your role is in the Corporation, but my guess is that you’re high up enough to start making some changes.”

“No, I - well, yes, I am high up enough, but - I really don’t think I should be -“

“Could you at least listen to our demands before you write them off?” said the Doctor, putting on his best persuasion face, wide eyes and all. Charley had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

“No, I couldn’t,” said Von. “Look, what you’re accusing me of - what you’re accusing the _Corporation_ of - it’s slander! We’ve never done anything to harm our employees. Why, they’re treated brilliantly! They earn above the minimum wage, they get discounted health insurance, we pay for all their mandatory cosmetic surgery, they get three sub-rotations’ holiday per rotation -“

“Yes yes yes, I’m sure they do,” said the Doctor. “I’m more concerned about their working conditions.”

“I told you, they’re treated -“

“Brilliantly, you said,” said the Doctor. “Look, we can go back and forth on this all day, but quite frankly, I’m tired, and I’d much sooner end my day on a beach somewhere than in here arguing with you. So, I think I’ll play my best card now.”

“Which is?” said Von.

The Doctor smiled and laced his fingers together. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, I’ll contact my friends in the union. They’ll launch a full scale investigation into Paradise, and then it won’t matter who you know, or who you bribe, your entire planet will be shut down. No more Tourism, no more Retail, and no more money for your economy. The whole Corporation will be gone faster than it takes the average Time Lord to cross through the Interzone.”

Charley decided not to mention that it actually took quite a while to cross through the Interzone, so the analogy was rather poor. She instead watched Lewyel Von struggling to come up with something to say.

“Fine,” he spat out eventually. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Marvellous!” said the Doctor. He drew up a chair in front of Von’s desk and crossed his legs, hands clasped over his knees. “Now, shall we begin with that thing you said about mandatory cosmetic surgery?”

* * *

“All in all,” said the Doctor, shutting the TARDIS door behind him, “I’d say that was one of the most successful business meetings I’ve ever conducted.”

“Have you conducted many?” said Charley.

“Admittedly, no,” said the Doctor. “But I think I’m rather good at it, wouldn’t you say?”

“You certainly had that manager over a - what’s the phrase, Charlotte?”

“Over a barrel,” said Charley.

“I did, didn’t I?” said the Doctor, looking rather pleased with himself. “Well, he could hardly ignore a threat like that. He didn’t know I was bluffing.”

Charley leaned on the console. “So, where are we going next?”

“Wherever you like,” said the Doctor.

“I think it’s C’rizz’s turn to choose,” said Charley.

“Oh,” said C’rizz, “erm, somewhere quiet, please.”

“The Eutermesan has spoken,” said the Doctor, flicking a few controls. “Somewhere quiet it is.”

Charley laid her hand on top of the Doctor’s. “You seem a lot happier.”

“I am,” said the Doctor brightly. “Nothing like overthrowing a capitalistic society to improve the mood.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop having these depressions?” asked Charley.

The Doctor gave a small smile. “I don’t think they’ll stop, Charley. Not as long as I’m stuck in this universe. But at least I know I can get out of them.” He beamed at his friends. “As long as I’m still in such good company.”


End file.
